


As Natural as the Rain

by Fic_me_senseless



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff and Angst, Kosmo is the best boy, M/M, Painter Keith, Pining, Shiro Birthday Exchange 2019, minor appearances by other Voltron characters, office worker shiro, references to ptsd and overcoming trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-06 23:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17949494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fic_me_senseless/pseuds/Fic_me_senseless
Summary: A dog steals a sandwich and the results are cosmic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wincechesters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wincechesters/gifts).



> Written for Wincechesters as part of the Shiro Birthday Exchange. Everything on your wishlist was so inspiring; I've tried to combine a few of your requests, and hope you can find something that makes you smile.
> 
> Title taken from The Flood, by Katie Melua.

Shiro has an hour and a half before his appointment. Plenty of time to get ready. Plenty of time for his nerves to build. He’s been reading the same page of his book for the last ten minutes, unable to concentrate fully as his mind refuses to quieten enough so that the words make any sense. He puts it page-down on the comforter and gets out of bed, making his way to the bathroom.

He brushes his teeth before stepping into the shower and washing his hair and body. The temperature of the water helps to clear his head a little, soothing the anxiety a little. It’s Saturday, so he slept in a little later than normal, but can’t help wishing he had scheduled today for a work day instead, so that he could have used his in-tray as a distraction.

Watching the suds as they go down the drain, he turns the water off and reaches for a towel. Once he’s dried, he wraps the towel around his waist and stands in front of the sink. 

Most mornings, he ignores his reflection in the mirror. Instead, he focuses for a few seconds just to make sure his hair doesn’t look too bad and then turns away.

This time, he forces himself to really look. He still favors the same forelock and undercut style that he has for years, except that his hair is white now. It had been since he’d woken up from the accident. Part of his body’s way of responding to stress. His hair had been down to his shoulders when he had felt well enough in his mind and his body to get it cut, but it didn’t feel like him with anything else. 

The scar across the bridge of his nose is no less prominent, but he supposes it will take more than a few years to fade any significant amount.

He wonders if every twenty-eight year olds has as many crows feet in the corners of their eyes as he does. 

He can’t imagine what he is going to look like to a potential date. 

Not for the first time, he asks himself if he knows what he’s doing. If it’s not too soon. 

If anyone will want him.

He’s still healing, still too self-conscious about his hair, his scar, his arm. He’s more used to the prosthetic now. Less angry. Less scared. For a long time, whenever he thought about it, whenever he used it, panic would flood through him. He had to fight to keep it at bay. To make himself accept his new reality. 

Most days he would say he’s doing well. And his doctors would agree. He’s down to visits every six months now, and they seem to be a little more pleased with his progress each time. It’s reassuring all the time he’s in their office, and usually even for a few weeks after. 

But sometimes, the doubt and the sadness seep through his mental armour, and Shiro isn’t sure if it is the scars on his body or in his mind that did the most damage.

He grips the edges of the sink with both hands and looks down at the white porcelain for a moment, taking a deep breath.

What happened does not define him. He will not let it control him. He can’t let it consume him.

He lets go of the sink and stands up straight.

Looking at himself in the mirror one more time, Shiro sighs before going to get dressed.


	2. Chapter 2

Allura’s office is in a quiet part of town, in a row of quaint buildings, and this afternoon is Shiro’s first visit as a client. It’s an attempt at an apology, although Allura assured him one was not needed. He knew he had been selfish, hidden himself from the world as he tried to make sense of things, and the thought of causing her to worry about him filled him with guilt.

As Shiro settled into his new normal, Allura had subtly offered her professional matchmaking services whenever he was ready. She was positive that helping him to ‘get back out there’ would assist his recovery, and she had every confidence he would find someone. Most importantly, Allura promised that she would go at his speed, and he could say no to anyone, including her, at any time.

Relationships had never really been a priority; he had been busy with school then college and then trying to find his place in life, like everyone else. There had been a few relationships, and he had always just assumed that love would find him whenever the time was right. Since then, his trust in fate has been more than a little bruised. 

Shiro takes the scenic route through the park, walking briskly even though he has time to stroll. If he can, he now prefers to walk places and leave his car at home. He enjoys the calming effect exercise has on his mind, and it makes him feel that his body is working with him instead of against him. Shiro is more relaxed now; feeling less anxious after reminding himself of Allura’s assurances. He doesn’t know whether it will last through the application process, but there is only one way to find out.

As he gets closer to Sal’s, the coffee shop at the centre of the park, his stomach reminds him that he missed breakfast. He checks his watch and decides to stop in and pick up a sandwich and a bottle of water. Shiro chooses chicken salad, his standard order, and gets it to go. The food is great but the service is terrible, and he’s warm enough from his walk to sit on a bench outside while he eats.

It’s a crisp and bright day in early March; the trees and flowers are beginning to blossom, and Shiro picks a quiet spot, glad to be away from the crowd back in the shop. He rests his lunch on one side of the seat and his messenger bag on the other. He takes out his book, intending to get a few pages read while he eats. 

His first bite is as good as it always is, and he places it back on the brown bag embossed with the cafe logo, not bothering to wrap it again. Shiro is three pages and another bite in when he becomes aware of something in his peripheral vision. He’s not too concerned as it’s perfectly normal to see animals in the park. It’s only as the something gets closer that Shiro realizes that it’s a dog. A huge one. 

Shiro puts his book down as the dog approaches at speed, and prepares to say hello. 

The dog’s tail is wagging uncontrollably, and it jump up, front paws landing on Shiro’s thighs. He laughs, and begins to pet it. Impossibly, the dog’s coat looks to be various shades of blue mixed in with black, with a pretty grey pattern on its head and down it’s nose. The shade of the fur must be a reflection caused by the sunlight, but it’s unlike anything Shiro has ever seen before. The dog angles his head down, directing the back of his ear towards Shiro’s hand.

“Hi there, buddy! Who’s a good dog, huh? Who’s a good dog!” Shiro says, realising too late that something else has captured the it’s attention. 

He peers over to see what is so interesting, but the dog is too quick for him, jumping down with Shiro’s sandwich in his mouth, trotting a few metres away to eat his spoils.

“Kosmo, no!!!”

Shiro looks to the source of the shouting. 

A man rushes towards the dog, running straight past Shiro. He stands in front of the dog, talking to him as he clips a leash onto his collar.

“Why did you do that? I hope you realise that we have to go and apologise now.”

The park is quiet enough so that Shiro can hear him quite clearly, although from his hushed tone, Shiro thinks that the conversation is meant to be private. Shiro makes a deliberate show of putting his book away and starts to scrunch up the sandwich bag ready for the recycling bin. He only looks up when the man and the dog are standing in front him, a polite distance away.

The man coughs nervously before speaking.

“I’m so sorry. He’s not normally a...lunch thief. I wouldn’t have let him off the leash otherwise.”

The earnestness on his face and the conviction in his voice leaves no room for doubt in Shiro’s mind that he is telling the truth. The dog looks apologetic too, and there is no way that Shiro can find it anything but endearing.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I can’t blame him. It was a good sandwich,” he says, realising too late that he has just made things worse.

“Please, let me buy you another one. It’s the least I can do.”

“No, no, it’s fine, I promise.”

“Well, let me pay for it then,” the man says, putting his free hand in his jacket pocket as if searching for something. His dark hair is tied messily into a bun, with long bangs that frame his face,. It’s hard to place his age, but Shiro guesses he is in his early twenties, if not older. 

“Honestly, it’s not a problem. He’s a very cute dog,” Shiro says, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. 

“Hmmm. Sometimes. Kosmo, say sorry.” 

The dog approaches Shiro and puts his chin on Shiro’s knee, looking up at him with doleful eyes.

Shiro pets him to let him know he is forgiven, and when Kosmo gets back to his owner, the man speaks again.

“We’ve kept you long enough. Sorry for ruining your lunch, and thanks for being so nice about it.”

“Any time.” Shiro answers, then frowns at himself.

The man smiles at him and says goodbye with a nod before jogging away.


	3. Chapter 3

Shiro presses the buzzer and waits for an answer. Allura’s business is on the top floor of a modest two-storey building, and not much has changed since the last time he had visited. As he waits for an answer, he taps his fingertips against his thigh.

“Good afternoon, Quintessential, this is Allura speaking, how may I help?” says the voice through the entry system. Shiro recognises it as her best public speaking voice.

“It’s Shiro.”

“Come up, come up! I’ll just let you in!” she says, back to her normal self.

The front door unlocks and Shiro takes the stairs two at a time. Before he gets to the top, the office door is opened and Allura meets him with a hug.

“It’s so good to see you.”

“You too.”

She lets go and takes a few steps back so he can enter the room. 

“No Lance today?” Shiro asks, looking around. There’s no sign of Allura’s husband at his usual place behind the reception desk.

“No, just me today. He’s helping Veronica move house. He might be in later though. Let me get you a drink and then we can catch up and talk. Please, sit.”

She disappears into a small room by her office, just off from the main reception area. Shiro takes a seat on the pale blue sofa. Since she started the company, the walls have always been ivory and the furnishings all various shades of pastel, with a sparkly finish.

It’s so her that Shiro feels almost nostalgic for their college days.

“So what have you been up to?” she asks, placing two cups of coffee on the table.

“Not much, really. Work, mainly. I’m pretty boring these days,” Shiro says, not sure why he’s holding back. To protect Allura from worrying about him? To protect himself from admitting that there is something missing from his life and he’s not sure what it is?

How can he hold a conversation with a stranger when he can’t hold one with his friend? Shiro feels his face begin to flush at the memory of embarrassing himself at the park. He knows the other man probably wouldn’t remember what Shiro had said, but it replays itself over in his head.

“How is work?” Allura guides gently, refocusing his attention.

“Good. They’re nice people and it’s kind of to do with space, so I’m happy there. It’s good to have a routine and get out of the apartment, you know? It makes being there feel like less of a prison, because now I’m there because I want to be, rather than being there because I can’t be anywhere else.”

“Oh, Shiro,” she says, softly.

He wishes he could take it back. 

“No, that sounded worse than I meant it to. I promise, I’m doing okay. Good even, most days.” 

She isn’t stupid and he won’t lie to her, but he will cushion the worst of it.

She pats him arm reassuringly. 

“You know you can stay with Lance and I any time. We would love to see you more.”

“I know, and thank you, Allura.”

“You can share Coran’s room,” she teases, referring to her godfather. 

“He’s living with you now?” Shiro asks. Coran had been an ever-present force in Allura’s life ever since Shiro had known her.

“Yes. He seems to have found a love of home improvements. His latest idea is fitting solar panels to the roof. I think he drives Lance crazy sometimes, but he’s part of the family. Now, let’s see if we can’t work a little magic for you.”

She takes a sip of her coffee and reaches across the table, passing Shiro a clipboard and pen. On the clipboard is a piece of paper. It’s a questionnaire.

“I designed it to help check romantic compatibility,” Allura explains. “There is another form for all the boring things like name and date of birth that you can do later, but this one is my favorite, so I like people to fill in it in first.”

He looks down at it, skimming through the questions. 

“I know it’s old fashioned, but there’s something about a pen writing on paper that tends to make people more connected to their answers. About what they really want in a partner. So take some time to read through everything and ask if there’s anything you need, okay?”

When Shiro nods in understanding, she lets him have some time, leaving him on the sofa as she moves behind the reception desk.

_1.The thing I am most passionate about it is:_

It’s a tough question. There are lots of things he likes. Space, animals, macaroni and cheese, his softest sweater on a bad day. There are so many things that make up a person that it is impossible to pick one thing. He thinks about the what he most values in others, what he believes in. Something he can’t compromise on. 

_1.The thing I am most passionate about it is: Kindness. It is a fundamental part of human existence, and has the power to change lives. Everything we choose to do, or not to do, has an effect on the world around us and those living within it. We have a duty to try our very hardest to do our best, for ourselves as well as others, no matter how many times it feels like we fail._

He moves on to the next question, telling himself he will read everything through when he’s done.

_2\. What I am looking for:_

He knows what he wants. He wants to make a connection with someone. He wants to love and be loved. He wants to hold someone’s hand and to know that they want to hold his. To be understood, even when he doesn’t understand himself.

His chest tightens and he realizes that, right now, this feels too introspective. Too personal. He’s not sure if he is ready to give so much of himself away just yet.

“Allura?”

“Yes?”

She stands and walks out from behind the desk towards him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m ready for this just yet,” Shiro says, putting down the clipboard and pen. “Maybe in a few weeks we can try again, if you still want to?”

“Of course. Take as much time as you need. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thank you. I just….I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

She rests a hand on his shoulder as she leans up to kiss his cheek.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”


	4. Chapter 4

Shiro spends the rest of the weekend in his apartment alone. Allura texts him on Sunday, just to check he is okay. He answers that he is. It’s not a lie. Not really. He just can’t seem to settle. He doesn’t want to be around anyone and he doesn’t want to be by himself. Nothing he tries to focus on occupies his mind enough to drag him out of his mood. He knows the signs; the slow spiral into isolation and fear. Going back there scares him, so he put some music on and decides to clean. He starts in the kitchen, then goes through each room. It makes him feel productive. He gets his clothes ready for tomorrow, grateful that he doesn’t dread being at his desk in approximately twelve hours.

He enjoys his work, and four months after starting, he still can’t believe that that his boss took a chance on him and gave him the job. Pidge told him on his first day that it was Shiro’s enthusiasm for space that had convinced her he would be an asset to her company. She knew admin wasn’t the most exciting thing to do, but working with someone that had a genuine interest in the industry they worked in would benefit both staff and clients alike.

He shares an open-plan office with Pidge, Matt and Hunk. Pidge splits her time running the business and designing bespoke vacuum chambers, with Matt and Hunk taking on the majority of the engineering work. In the workshop underneath the office is the rest of team, who carry out the actual manufacturing of the chambers. It’s Shiro’s job to make sure the phones are answered, the post is distributed, materials are ordered, orders shipped out on time and with the correct paperwork, and invoices sent, as well as numerous other tasks. As an employee, thanks to an initiative to promote investment in the town, he also gets priority invites to any lectures by visiting professors at the observatory. He hasn’t had one to his work email yet, but Pidge said there might be one coming up in the next few months. It feels like a perk of the job, and it is. He looks out of the window up at the moon. No matter how many times he looks at it, it never loses its fascination. Shiro hasn’t the heart to tell her that he is already on their membership-only mailing list. He isn’t hurting anyone by keeping it to himself.

*****

The next weekend, Shiro has finished his book and caught up on all his shows. His favorite is the baking one, and he toys with the idea of maybe learning to make something simple like a traybake. If he gets good enough, he could even take it into work. If not, then the birds in the park would probably eat it if he crumbled it up into small enough pieces. He wonders if the lunch thief likes cake. Kosmo. That was his name. The memory of it makes him smile a little, any embarrassment faded, even if not forgotten. 

He opens the refrigerator, finding nothing he wants. Checking the timer on the washing machine, Shiro calculates that he can get to Sal’s, pick up some lunch and get back home before the cycle has finished. Grabbing his wallet, coat and keys, Shiro locks the door behind him.

Luckily, when he arrives, there is only one person ahead of him, and they are already being served. Shiro doesn’t really need to look at the menu board behind the counter, but he does anyway while he waits for the server.

He hears a cough, and realises that it’s coming from the person to his left, rather than from behind the counter. He doesn’t turn, not wanting to make the person uncomfortable when they are suffering with a cold.

Shiro places his order and is reaching into his pocket for his wallet, when the person next to him speaks.

“I’d like to pay, if that’s okay.”

Shiro looks at him in surprise, and then it clicks.

“I owe you. My dog…..he stole your lunch?” the man says, awkwardly.

“Yeah, I remember. Where is he today?” Shiro asks, looking around and wondering how he could have managed to walk past Kosmo without noticing. 

“You’re safe today. My mom’s looking after him,” the man explains, visibly relaxing.

“Gentlemen, I don’t care who pays and I don’t care where the dog is as long as it’s not here. What I do care about is my eight dollars,” says the server, interrupting them.

Kosmo’s owner opens his wallet and looks to Shiro as if asking silent permission.

“Okay, sure. Thank you.”

While they wait for their orders, the coffee shop quickly starts to get busier. The man’s order is ready first, and he turns to look for a table.

“Hey, if you don’t mind sitting together, there is a table over there,” he says, nodding to a corner away from the window.

Shiro is torn. The polite thing would be to sit with him, but is favorite place is outside, and Shiro isn’t sure he can do small talk sitting across a small table. At least outside there are things to look at and talk about. He presses his lips together for a moment and makes a decision.

‘I usually sit outside. I prefer it. The bench, you know where I was sitting before? It has a good view. We could sit there if you want?”

“No, I mean, yeah, that would be good. I’m Keith, by the way,” he says, juggling his food so that he can put his wallet away.

Shiro smiles and tells him his name in return as he collects his order.

They leave Sal’s and begin to walk, falling into step. 

“Does your mom look after your dog often?” Shiro asks, just as Keith takes a bite of his food. He chews quicker so that he can answer Shiro’s question, waiting until his mouth is empty before he speaks.

“Only if I’m working and can’t take him with me. I’m a painter, and some clients are cool with it and some aren’t.” 

“What do you paint?”

“Houses mainly. The insides, anyway. The outside too, sometimes.”

“And you’re working today?”

“Yeah, my client was sick before and had to cancel, so we rescheduled for today. This is my lunch break, actually,” Keith says, taking a seat now that they’ve arrived.

Shiro sits down while Keith takes another mouthful of his sandwich, and Shiro unwraps his own.

“It must be nice to take your dog to work with you.”

Keith nods as he swallows, and Shiro continues to speak.

“I’m not sure my boss would allow a dog in the office. But I think she would make an exception for Kosmo.”

“You remembered his name,” Keith says warmly.

“Of course,” Shiro answers, relieved that he doesn’t seem to think it weird that Shiro remembers the name of a dog he met a week ago for the first time. He also hasn’t stared at Shiro’s scar, or his prosthetic. Only the hand is visible, the rest of it being covered by his coat, but going on his experience so far, Shiro thinks that he wouldn’t be made to feel uncomfortable even if he wasn’t wearing it. 

“I have some photos of him if you want to see?” Keith asks, already digging in his pockets.

“Mmm” Shiro confirms as he swallows his sip of water. He puts the bottle on the ground and holds out his hand to take the phone Keith is offering him. 

“Just swipe through; I have about a hundred on there, but don’t feel like you have to look at all of them.”

He takes a bite of his sandwich while he goes through the pictures. 

Kosmo has to be the most photogenic dog Shiro has ever seen, and it is obvious that Keith and his dog are best friends. There’s not a single photo that doesn’t melt his heart, and he almost wishes he could see some pictures of when he was a puppy. 

“How old was he when you got him?” Shiro asks, handing Keith’s phone back.

“I’m not sure exactly. The vet thought he was about five weeks old.”

“The vet?”

“Yeah, I found a box by the side of the road when I was driving home from school. Something was obviously trying to get out. I pulled over, opened it up and found Kosmo. I took him home, and Mom said we should get him checked over, and make sure he didn’t have a microchip. As if either of us would have given him back to whichever asshole had dumped him,” Keith says, interrupted by an alarm from his phone.

“Shit. I’m sorry Shiro, I need to get back to work.” 

He brushes sandwich crumbs from his lap as he stands. It’s only then that Shiro realises he still has most of his lunch left. He keeps the partially-eaten half for himself, and wraps the other half back up before handing it to Keith.

“For Kosmo. Tell him I said hi.”

The expression on Keith’s face is a mixture of surprise and delight, and then he is asking for Shiro’s number.

“So that Kosmo can say thank you.”

Laughing, Shiro hands over his phone.


	5. Chapter 5

Getting home after the timer on the washing machine has long finished beeping, Shiro can’t deny that he is feeling lighter than he has in a while. He puts some music on, keeping his phone in his pocket, and starts to clean his apartment, dealing first with the wet laundry that needs to go in the dryer.

Talking with Keith was nice. Good, even. Shiro didn’t spend any time wishing he could get away, worried he was making a bad impression or waiting for the inevitable questions in the other person’s eyes, if not their words.

Although there’s no proof in it, Shiro allows himself a moment to think about the possibility that Keith had seen something in him that meant he was worth spending time with.

He shakes his head to push the thoughts away. Looking too deeply and trying to analyse things would result in one of two things: he would convince himself that anything positive was impossible, or he would scare Keith away by being over-eager.

Maybe he isn’t even ready for a new friendship. 

This is exactly why he was right not to continue with Allura’s offer. If he can’t even make a new friend then he shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea of anything more. Shiro takes his anxieties out on the bathtub, scrubbing it until there is no doubt it would pass muster, but there are no answers reflecting back at him.

Shiro grabs the broom and tries to think rationally as he sweeps the living room floor. He can’t keep tying himself up in his insecurities. It had been a great afternoon, and nothing Keith had done had reinforced Shiro’s negative thought pattern.

It had been relaxed between them. Fun, even. He hopes it was the same for Keith. Because Keith asked for his number, should Shiro have asked for his? His stomach starts to sink, and he takes a deep breath. He needs to have patience with himself, to stop picking over mistakes he can't change, to remember that he is more than the sum of his flaws. 

When there is nothing left to wash or wipe or tidy, he sits on the sofa, trying and failing to get lost in a terrible monster movie. His pocket beeps, and Shiro pulls out his phone, holding it up so he can see the screen. 

It’s a picture of Kosmo, bright-eyed and looking happy. Smiling, almost. Shiro thinks back to all the photos he saw earlier, and changes his mind. Kosmo is definitely smiling. 

Shiro scrolls down to read the message under the photo.

_> > I think he enjoyed it._

Shiro texts back straight away.

_> > I’m glad. Did you say hi for me?_

_> > Of course. He said hi back. And thank you for thinking of him._

Shiro stands before replying, typing as he walks into the kitchen to get a drink. He gets caught up in their conversation before he remembers why he went in there, and by the time he’s settled back on the sofa, Shiro can’t remember how many messages have been sent between them.

The movie is forgotten, and hours later, Shiro falls asleep with his phone still in his hand.


	6. Chapter 6

Receiving photos of Kosmo becomes a regular thing, but not as regular as the texts Keith and Shiro share. He learns that Keith prefers his motorbike over his work truck, that he got kicked out of three schools before the age of eighteen, and that his mother’s first choice of name for him was Yorak. Shiro lets him in on the fact that he was a grade A pupil, and that the name he prefers to go by isn’t actually the one he was given at birth. It's comfortable, and sometimes Shiro almost forgets to be afraid. 

Soon, Keith is inviting Shiro to walk Kosmo every Sunday. It becomes an unwritten agreement that any spare time outside of work is spent together. Games of frisbee with Kosmo at the park turn into evenings spent with all three of them squeezed on the sofa watching movies and sharing take-out. There’s a trip to the observatory, where Shiro learns that Keith finds the same comfort in the stars as he does. When Shiro tells him about the email he got for a cosmology lecture, Keith circles the date on the calendar stuck to his bulletin board.

As easy as things are between them, he can’t shake the feeling that he is waiting for something to break. What they have is important to him, and slowly, so slowly, the invisible stitches start to seal Shiro’s wounds, although he knows there is no miraculous cure. He fights against himself; part of him wants to tell Keith how bad it can get in his head, but a larger part of him can’t risk losing him. Shiro asks himself how he would react if their situation was reversed, already knowing the answer. It gives him courage.

 

*****

Late Spring brings warmer weather, so Shiro suggests a beach day, knowing it is Kosmo’s second favorite place after the park. He packs up his car and, arrives at Keith’s with a double espresso, which he hands straight to him, and a new frisbee for Kosmo. The sun that was shining when he left home has started to cloud over, but they don’t change their plans. In a way, Shiro is grateful for the change in the weather as it means the beach will be less crowded. 

They stop mid-way through their three hour journey for a bathroom break and to let Kosmo stretch his legs. Keith scratches behind the dog’s ears, apologising that he’s not allowed to ride with his head out of the window, but the harness is safer and he is too important to lose. 

“Listen to him Kosmo, he’s right,” Shiro says as he pats his head, only partly teasing. Keith rolls his eyes as they get back in the car.

As they pull into the parking lot, it’s raining, but Shiro packed for every eventuality. He pulls out a couple of raincoats from the trunk and offers one to Keith. Although Keith is lost in it, he doesn’t let it stop him. Kosmo runs straight into the sea, barking with delight. He swims and dives while Keith finds some driftwood to throw for him, only coming out when sees Shiro throw the frisbee to Keith. The wind blows it closer to water, and Keith lets Kosmo bring it to him. They play a combination game of their own making, mixing frisbee and tag, until all three of them are ready to go back to the car.

They dry off using the towels Shiro packed earlier, and Keith suggests stopping somewhere on the way back and getting some food.

Kosmo flops down happily on the back seat and drifts off to sleep. Shiro speaks quietly, telling Keith there is a travel rug under his seat. Keith searches under the passenger side until he finds it, and drapes it over his resting dog. Kosmo lazily opens an eye and then nestles down comfortably.

“I hope he had a good time.”

“Are you kidding me? He’s been nothing but spoiled since the day he met you,” Keith says.

Both of their voices are hushed, barely audible over the soft snores coming from the back seat and the rain tapping against the roof of the car.

“I think he’s been spoiled a lot longer than that.”

Keith doesn’t disagree. 

“He deserves it though,” he says, voice full of fondness.

There’s a quiet intensity to Keith. Something intrinsic about the way he focuses his attention. 

It makes Shiro feel like they are the only two people left in the world.

Keith shifts in his seat, moving closer. A strand of hair falls from behind Keith's ear, and his fingertips brush Shiro's shoulder as he pushes it back. 

“I wanted to say thank you. For being so good with him. It means a lot to me. To know that he was right to like you. ” 

Shiro looks at him, tracing the outline of vulnerability that Keith is letting him see. 

He sees shades of himself in the person next to him. Knows what it’s like. He hopes to the stars he’s not wrong.

“I’m glad he found me. I’m glad we met, Keith.”

Keith smiles softly, glancing back at Kosmo before returning his gaze to Shiro.

“He knows a good heart when he sees one.”

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees,“he does." 


	7. Chapter 7

Keith is the last person he speaks to at night, and the first person he speaks to in the morning.

It’s trust, and time, and honesty.

Keith always listens, but doesn’t judge. He never asks for anything in return. Never pushes Shiro in a direction that he isn’t ready to go. Instead, he gives Shiro the courage not to hide any part of himself. A gift that he is immeasurably grateful for. 

He tells Keith about waking up after accident. The pain and fear, and the anger at losing his career as a test pilot. Not everything, because there are things that he needs to come to terms with himself before he can speak about them, but about how he has struggled and fought to regain his sense of self since it happened. 

Sitting on Keith’s sofa, with Kosmo resting across their laps, Shiro tells Keith about his anxiety and his depression. How it sometimes makes him feel like a shadow of the person he was before. That he worries he will never be free of it.

Shiro’s eyes burn, on the verge of tears, and he shakes with the stress of admitting it all out loud. Keith puts his hand on Shiro’s shoulder, grounding him. Quietly, Keith thanks Shiro for trusting him. Tells him that he can’t begin to imagine how difficult it must have been for Shiro to go through, let alone to still be experiencing. 

They stay on the couch, talking until the sun comes up.


	8. Chapter 8

Keith picks him up from a late finish at the office and they go straight to the observatory. The lecture they have both been looking forward to is everything that Shiro hoped it would be. The infinite potential and absolute beauty of space make him feel so connected to something bigger than himself. Filling his heart with joy, with hope. 

As everyone files out into the lobby, he sees the visiting professor who waves in greeting. Shiro waves back, but the professor is whisked away before Shiro can approach him to say thank you for giving such a good presentation.

The crowd disperses, and they walk the few blocks where Keith parked his truck, talking along the way about the interactions of galaxies.

“Hey, do you want to do something? I don’t feel like going home just yet.” Shiro asks as they turn the corner.

“Sure, what do you have in mind?”

It’s a beautiful night, perfect for stargazing once the moon is high.

“Could we just drive for a while? Or we could go back to my place and get my car, and I’ll drive?”

“No, driving is good. I know where we can go,” Keith says, starting the engine.

As they join the road, Shiro leans his head on the window and watches the sky. There are no clouds, and as they get further away from the lights in town, his view gets clearer. He’s so calm here with Keith and the endless sky, happy to be lost in both.

Shiro is unsure how long they have been travelling, but feels the smooth road change to gravel.

Keith pulls over underneath a large tree and turns off the engine. The bright moon is high in the sky, allowing enough light for them to see, but not clearly.

“Where are we?” Shiro asks.

“Not too far outside of town. I want to show you something, but I need you to trust me.”

“Okay,” Shiro nods, following him without hesitation. 

He feels Keith put a hand gently around his wrist.

“Your eyes will adjust in a minute, but you don’t need to worry. I won’t let you fall.”

He lets Keith guide him along a steep, narrow path. True to his word, Keith makes sure he doesn’t even stumble. The only sound is their breathing. He is glad Keith is guiding him because Shiro can barely concentrate on anything except the warm, reassuring touch around his wrist.

When they get to the clearing at the top of the track, the view makes Shiro gasp.

Overlooking the distant buildings, they are blanketed by the indigo sky, high enough to see the millions of stars untarnished by the artificial town lights.

“Keith, this….this is amazing,” Shiro says, taking a few steps forward.

Keith tugs him back until they are next to each other.

“Careful, there’s a ledge.”

It’s a few minutes before either of them speak.

“How have I lived here so long and never seen this place?” Shiro asks, not expecting an answer.

“I don’t think many people come up here. I’ve never seen anyone else here, anyway.”

“How long have you been coming here?”

“A while. It helps me think. It makes me feel calm. Like I’m part of something bigger.”

Shiro turns to him, understanding flowing between them.

Keith hasn’t let go of his wrist, and Shiro can’t stop thinking how beautiful he is. How he makes Shiro feel.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here, Shiro. The first person I’ve ever wanted to bring here. I'm sharing it because....because I want you to have this place too, whenever you need it.”

Shiro isn’t sure how their fingers become entwined, but he never wants to let go.

“I know I’m taking a risk telling you this. I don’t want to scare you, but I’ve got to be honest.”

Keith pauses and takes a deep breath. Shiro brushes his thumb with his own, letting him know it’s okay.

“I feel like I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

 

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**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/undeadandinbed) and [tumblr](https://undeadandinbed.tumblr.com)


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